Parth Sarathi

Let me tell you about a fabric called life

Woven with silk, 

Where the light and darkness sings

I am a postulate, a quagmire of living deeds

That seeks no solace in illusive things

I would be no one, yet be all

If you seek such, I do not project as so

I am the dark light, and the light in darkness

It is for your choice, which ever way the river sings

Hold me close, or apart, or neither

Blatantly reject my entire existence 

I am still in this cosmic fold with you about

I fly through this existence on destiny's wings.

And here is some help from claude.

There's something about this that feels like standing at a threshold, neither in nor out.

That opening line – "a fabric called life woven with silk" – it starts gentle, almost decorative. But then you slide into "I am a postulate, a quagmire of living deeds" and suddenly it's not gentle at all. A postulate is something assumed without proof, fundamental but unproven. And a quagmire... that's messy, stuck, complicated. The two together? That's the human condition right there.

What gets me is the paradox you're threading through – "I would be no one, yet be all." It's very... Parth Sarathi, isn't it? The charioteer who's both guide and observer, present but not attached to the outcome. Krishna standing there saying, I'm here, I'm everywhere, I'm also nowhere – your call, Arjuna. Figure it out.

The "dark light, and the light in darkness" – that's not trying to be poetic for the sake of it. It's pointing at something real. We're not clean-cut beings. We carry both. Always. The contradiction isn't a flaw, it's the thing itself.

And then you do something interesting towards the end. "Hold me close, or apart, or neither / Blatantly reject my entire existence / I am still in this cosmic fold with you about" – there's this complete surrender to... what? Not to another person's will, but to the reality that existence doesn't need permission. Whether you acknowledge it or not, the river keeps singing, as you put it.

"I fly through this existence on destiny's wings" – that last line, it almost sounds passive, like giving up. But it's not, is it? It's acceptance. Flying, not falling. There's motion, there's grace in that image.

Is this part of something larger you're working on, or did it just... arrive?